


Bring Your Dancing Shoes

by Darkravenwrote



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:20:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkravenwrote/pseuds/Darkravenwrote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry overhears Draco talking about his expectations for any date he takes to the Yuleball and is confident he can deliver, and Draco has always been a master of strategy and getting his own way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Your Dancing Shoes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snugglemint](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=snugglemint).



> This was supposed to play on your confident/playboy!Harry prompt, but I ended downtoning that and focusing on smart/Draco. Hope you enjoy it and Merry Christmas, snugglemint.

Harry likes that the war has brought people closer. He likes that he can nod to Nott, his assigned potions partner, at breakfast and not feel like he has betrayed his house. He thinks it's great how the house cup system is making them strive to be better like it was always supposed to - because the houses are so uneven - rather than turning into petty squabbles over fairness. It's a good thing that Hermione can integrate enough to hold a DADA study group that comprises of sixty percent Slytherins.

The only problem is that, logically, if Gryffindors are accepting other houses into their company, it holds true that the other houses are doing the same. Namely Slytherin. That’s the part Harry has a problem with. Not the idea in general, just that Malfoy never seems to have time to be annoying anymore.

Over the years, and entirely without realising it, Harry has become rather possessive of the hot glares he could feel on the back of his neck. He misses Malfoy's quick witted barbs and lazy smirks.

But Malfoy doesn't seem to have time for him anymore. He's always studying or pandering to Parkinson's every whim. Dean has told him that Romilda Vane told _him_ , that Lyra Drake in the year below - who is tutored by Blaise Zabini - informed her, that Malfoy is trying to keep his head down for his last year. Which, of course, sparked gossip all throughout the halls that he's ashamed of his family, or feeling guilty for surviving, et cetera. Harry doesn't really listen to gossip anyway, he'd much rather know what Malfoy thinks from the source.

The problem is, without the taunting traditions of old, Harry has no reason to make contact with him. No way of stealing back Malfoy's attention.

Yuletide is fast approaching, and with it the memorial Yule Ball McGonagall has organised. Harry still hasn't asked anyone to go with him - despite the numerous flirtatious hints - and he's decided he isn't planning to. He hasn't told Ron that he's hoping Malfoy won't have asked anyone either, and then Harry can use their situation as a conversation starter - or an excuse at least. Or he might bump into Malfoy loitering in the entrance hall, whichever fate deigns to throw at him. So long as Parkinson isn't hanging off his arm, stifling him and creasing his robes and hogging his affections.

It is pure coincidence when he overhears Malfoy and Zabini discussing it. His usual seat in Defence Against the Dark Arts had been blown up by a second year Slytherin, and his temporary assignment is a row behind them. So he can hear everything they say as they twitter on in front of him.

"No," Malfoy is saying when he takes his seat. His tone is forceful, but his attention is on the open page of his book. "Pansy can't tell her left from her right."

"What does that matter?" Zabini replies, clearly stumped. "She's completely gone on you and she's the most likely of your potential dates - of which there are few, might I add - to put out."

"If you'd stop thinking with your cock for five seconds, Blaise, please. You know I refuse to take someone who can't dance a waltz. Pansy's record is against her."

"Get out of it! There's no way old Pegwurt Parkinson didn't force his only daughter to learn formal dance."

"Who do you think her partner was while she was learning. No, it's quite out of the question. I shan't have my toes blackened."

"You'll be going alone at this rate."

"Which I am quite content to do."

"No, Draco, I won't allow it." Here Zabini pauses, eyeing Malfoy mischievously. "Are you still a gambling man, Draco?"

"I was never a gambling man."

"Even so. If I can find you a date who can waltz, will you take them to the ball?"

"A willing date. No potions or charms. No cheating."

Zabini rolls his eyes dramatically before nodding, "Yes, yes, a willing date who can dance the waltz. Would you go with them? No matter who it turned out to be?"

"What's in it for you?"

"The satisfaction of seeing my friend happy, of course."

"I don't believe that for a second, but I also don't believe there's anyone in this school who fits that criteria. So, have your fun, Blaise. But I expect a month's worth of charms notes and a transfiguration essay when you fail."

"Deal."

And after hearing that, there’s only one thing Harry can reasonably do.

Neville is predictably in Greenhouse three at lunchtime.

* * *

“Really, Blaise! Longbottom?!” Malfoy is squawking when Harry approaches them in the charms corridor a week later. “Really!?”

“Well, he can dance. And he’s so terrified of you still I thought he might actually go for it. Either that or out of pity.”

“You’re the worst friend ever, Blaise. I don’t need a pity date, I’d much rather just go on my own.” Here Malfoy pauses to chuckle to himself, “Longbottom, honestly.” 

“What about me then?” Harry asks, sidling up to them as naturally as he can, but feeling like he has just run a mile because his heart is thumping so fast. For a second, he regrets running into this head first - and sees what Hermione means about bravery actually being idiocy.

“What about you, what?” Malfoy replies, eyes wide, like he thinks he understands what is going on, but isn’t quite willing to believe it.

“What if you took me?” And Harry knows it has to be that way around or Malfoy, the picky sod, will refuse for certain. Although, Harry’s pretty sure he’s going to do that anyway.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I’m willing. Asking, in fact.” Malfoy continues to look unimpressed. “And I can dance a waltz.” 

Malfoy’s eyes narrow, and he says, “So you were listening in on that, were you?” Suddenly, Harry feels like he is very dangerous territory. 

He wants to tell Malfoy that maybe he should keep his voice down if he doesn’t want other people listening in on his conversations, but that probably wouldn’t go down very well. Instead, he says, “And I’ve taken lessons. That should tell you something.” He’s said his piece now, all he can do is let Malfoy decide his fate.

“Good,” Malfoy nods, appearing satisfied. “I was afraid if I had said it any louder Rita Skeeter might have heard all the way down in London.” Zabini’s mouth is gaping behind him, he is as absolutely lost as Harry, which is reassuring somehow.

“Er, what?” Harry asks, his eyebrows scrunching down over his eyes. Malfoy smiles back at him, predatory.

“What? Did you think a second year _Slytherin_ would really be so careless as to actually blow something up?”

“I…” Harry manages. But Malfoy, despite his shining teeth being on display, doesn’t sound like he is being cruel. Just... manipulative. Like he is satisfied with himself after a particularly arduous task has been completed.

“Oh, do keep up.” He turns to Zabini, whose face looks like it has been smacked a few times by an angry mermaid’s tail. “I’ll expect my first set of notes after class.”

“Now hold on a second!” Zabini protests, suddenly coming to life at the mention of extra work - although Harry suspects it is more to do with the suggestion that he has lost the bet. “You have a willing date for the ball who can dance a waltz!”

“Yes, but you didn’t find him. I did all the work. Your exact words were ‘if _I_ can find you,’ therefore you’ve failed.” He tilts his head, and his pale eyes scour up and down Harry’s body. Harry feels self conscious of his robes flapping a little high around his ankles and the speck of dirt on his shoulder. 

“Besides,” Malfoy continues, turning his back on Zabini and plucking the sleeve of Harry’s robe between his fingers so he can pull him along like a dog on a lead. “I still need to teach him the fandango, I need all the extra time I can get.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are welcome here or at [Livejournal](http://hd-owlpost.livejournal.com/90170.html). Comments are ♥.


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